His Favorite Chair
by K. Vermilya
Summary: Remus Lupin questions his fear over the war and his relationship with Tonks as Bill and Fleur's wedding is in preparation at the Burrow.


He massaged his temples with his thumbs and set his book down on the nightstand. Remus was exhausted, more mentally than physically. The dim reading lamp was casting shadows across the sitting room, creating eerie figures in the otherwise friendly-looking burrow.

It was a week before the wedding. Remus had been up since seven, listening to the racket Fleur was making over the bouquet arrangements. "No, no, no. 'Zis is not what I ordered! I azked for lilies! Zeez 'petunias' are not ze right color to match ze dresses on ze brides maids!"

It was almost one now. Remus had enjoyed the supper Molly had made for the entire house of guests, he had helped himself to seconds, and stuffed to the brim, he retreated into the sitting room. Arthur had joined him later, but had long since retired to bed, as everyone else in the house.

There was so much on his mind. What with the war beginning, and the wedding preparations, he had enough to think about. And today had been a tiring occasion. He remembered clearly the event of the afternoon. After Fleur and Bill tried cake after cake in the baker's, Tonks had pulled him aside and said something he wouldn't soon forget.

She had led him to a back hallway, near the exit of the small shop. She dipped her head low, he could see the waves of the top of her vibrant pink hair (the last glimpse of the week, being as the bride-to-be claimed that the pink would not complement any color on anyone at the wedding).

"What is it, Nymphadora?" he asked her cautiously. He didn't want to make a scene in front of the whole wedding party.

"Remus, I've been meaning to ask you… would you be my…my… date for the wedding?" She was about to add that it would be only as friends, but she realized she wanted more out of him than friendship, much more.

"Nymphadora, I don't know what to say."

"Say…yes?" She chuckled. He blushed. She didn't wait for his response.

"If you are afraid, don't be. Fear the war, Remus, but don't be afraid to escort me to a reception!"

Remus began to stumble over his words, mumbling out fragments like 'don't be ridiculous' and 'I'm not afraid..'. Tonks heard only his hesitation and left his side, joining the party more frustrated and even pinker than before. It had been a quick encounter, but it had left him with plenty to ponder.

He continued to ponder, while sitting in the near silence of the night, rocking back and forth in a comfortable chair by the bookshelf. He had arranged himself a little alcove when he was alone, and he felt secure. Nymphadora –no, Tonks- had left him with a startling question he couldn't figure out.

Was he afraid? Oh, he knew he was too old, too poor for her. Of course he knew, they were his foolish lines. But was he really afraid? He didn't want to risk her safety, that was certain. Being with her would only cause stress and worry. But being with her, even for a ceremony, would be incredible. He knew by the way his face was already warming with anticipation that he would have a great time with Tonks anywhere he went. His blasted morals were always in the way of his happiness. They were always in the way of his sublime happiness.

Remus was shifting in his chair, about to turn on the light when a soft tapping came at the center of the door. It was such a soft and demure sound, he was sure it was an owl, until the door opened, and it was apparent that it was not an owl whatsoever.

He saw the backside of her first, as she closed the door behind her. When she turned to face him, he saw she was embarrassed. She was wearing her normal nightclothes, a small gown that reached her knees. It was delicate and pale blue, contrasting wildly with her pink hair. He was taken aback, so much so that he slid back in his chair without realizing.

"Nymphador—"

"Shh. No, Remus. I wanted to apologize. I shouldn't have asked you so blatantly to go with me to the wedding this morning. I know I put you in a position, and I didn't mean to. So, I'm sorry."

He didn't know what to say. But when she turned and started backing out of the door, he found words.

"Tonks, wait." She paused. "You asked me a question. I should have answered you, but I didn't. I was quite rude, actually."

She shook her head. She really didn't want his polite side at the moment, just for him to either accept her proposal or let her leave.

"But, I made a mistake. I should have answered you right away. And I know why I didn't. You were right in thinking I was afraid." He took a shaky breath. He was so exhausted.

"I have some very good reasons to be afraid to start anything with you. And I have some very bad reasons. You know the good ones: war, financial status, and age difference. But I guess what you need to know is–"

"Remus, I'm cold. I'm tired. I came to apologize, not for a speech on morals."

Remus stood up. He slowly walked over to Tonks and pulled her into him. He breathed in her bubble gum hair and felt the soft nightgown on the patch of skin his unbuttoned shirt did not cover. It felt wonderful. The mere fact that he was engulfing her in his embrace made her weak in the knees, and she let him hold her up. He carried her step by step over to his alcove and sat in his chair –with her in his lap. She cradled his neck and he kissed hers. When she closed her eyes and let her head rest on his collarbone, he answered her.

"I would love to take you to the wedding."

He bent down and lifted her nightgown so that her pale stomach was revealed in the lamp light, and he kissed it. She moved her head, and he kissed her again. When he replaced her nightgown, she looked him full in the face and asked him, "Are you still afraid?"

He didn't know what to say. Instead, he wrapped her up in his arms and laid his head back.

"I love this chair."


End file.
